


Under the Mistletoe

by Kitmistry



Series: Kitmistry's Holiday Fics [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery Shop Owner Dean Winchester, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Holidays, M/M, Mistletoe, Pining Dean Winchester, Writers of Destiel Discord Promptus Exchangarama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitmistry/pseuds/Kitmistry
Summary: Dean didn't understand why Charlie insisted they hang a mistletoe over the door of the bakery, but maybe she was onto something.Or the one where Dean kissed his Christmas crush.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Kitmistry's Holiday Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075259
Comments: 28
Kudos: 177
Collections: Promptus Exchangarama





	Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galaxystiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/gifts).



> Written for Writers of Destiel's Winter Promptus Exchangarama, for galaxystiel. I tried to combine their first and second prompts - a meet cute where both were previously spending the holidays alone and a bakery au - and the result was this short, fluffy story.
> 
> A huge thank you to theimportanceofbeingvictoria and Deancebra for all their help and suggestions. 
> 
> Happy holidays everyone!

## ❅

Precariously balanced on the step ladder, Dean was caught right between the warm swirl of melted butter of the bakery and the biting chill of the first snow outside. It almost made him regret waiting so long to put up all the Christmas decorations. Hanging up the garland around the door and the windows of the storefront would have been a lot easier without the snow. 

“A little to the left. No a little to the right. That’s too right.”

“Charlie!” Dean barked, glaring at his best-friend-turned-business-partner over his shoulder. “Why don’t you climb up here and do it yourself, if you don’t like the way I’m doing it?”

“Because you didn’t let me?” She raised her shoulders in a half shrug. Then, bracing the box with the decorations against her hip, she rose to the tip of her toes to point to a spot a couple of inches next to where Dean had been trying to put a nail in. “That’s the center of the door frame. Put the nail there so we can secure the garland to it, and we can hang a mistletoe there, too.”

“Who would put a mistletoe there?”

“Um, us?” she asked, shaking her head like she couldn’t understand why Dean was protesting. “Just do what I’m telling you. It’ll look good, I promise.”

“Ugh, fine,” Dean relented, but only because the half of his body that was exposed to the winter breeze was dangerously close to turning into ice. “How does that look?”

Charlie beamed at him, giving him a thumbs up. “Perfect! Here, take the garland and put it on.”

She was very demanding when it came to decorating, but Dean had to concede that everything looked better with her minor adjustments. Which was why he accepted the mistletoe she held up for him next to hang from the middle of the garland. Who was he to question her genius after all?

“Looks good to you?”

She put a finger on her chin and narrowed her eyes at the mistletoe. “Maybe a little to the left?”

 _For fuck’s_ —Dean had an answer on the tip of his tongue, which he quickly swallowed when he turned to glare at Charlie and caught sight of the man standing a couple of feet behind her, staring wistfully at their window display. Along with his stomach dropping through the ground, his foot also missed the ladder and dropped through thin air, almost sending him to the ground himself, had it not been for Charlie’s quick reflexes.

“Easy there, tiger,” she said, biting down a knowing smirk, as she pushed him towards the ladder again to help him regain his balance. With a quick glance over her shoulder at the man, she wiggled her eyebrows at Dean. “I’ll go and help Kevin in the kitchen. You go man the front counter, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean managed to say over the roar of his blood in his ears. “I’ll take care of—Hi!”

“Hello, Dean. Charlie.” Cas, probably (no, _definitely_ ) Dean’s favorite regular, had unglued himself from the window. He was now standing right before Dean, hair perfectly tousled and snow peppered, nose pink and adorable, smile making Dean’s knees threaten to give out under him. Cas’ eyes followed the garland around the door. “The place looks good! Very festive.”

“Thank you!” Charlie replied cheerily, taking the opportunity to elbow Dean’s thigh and remind him he had to climb down that ladder and talk to the guy like a normal person.

Dean, however, didn’t feel like a normal person. He felt like a schoolgirl meeting her boy-band celebrity crush. He did climb down the ladder, though, fingers twisting into his apron as he stood across from Cas, the knowledge of how to form words escaping him at that particular moment. 

“I’ll take the ladder back,” Charlie said, dropping the box on the nearest table. She grabbed the ladder, and with her back now to Cas, she raised her eyebrows at Dean. _Get it together, man,_ her expression said. 

_Easier said than done_ , Dean thought, as the panic coiling in his gut worsened when Charlie walked away and left Dean and Cas to stare at each other. He had to say something.

 _Say something!_ _Anything!_

“So the weather—” Dean started at the same time Cas said, “Should we—”

They both paused mid-sentence. For a beat, they waited. Then Cas laughed. “Should we go inside?” he asked, gesturing for Dean to lead the way.

Like the idiot he was, Dean nodded, and, eyes glued to the floor, rushed to do what Charlie had told him—man the front counter. With all the donuts, cinnamon rolls, mini pies and cookies between them, it was easier to meet Cas’ striking blue gaze and smile. A business transaction was easy to navigate.

“So, the usual?” he asked, already turning to prepare Cas’ order: Decaf cappuccino, skim milk, cinnamon on top, and honey instead of sugar.

“You know it,” Cas replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m surprised you remember my exact order.”

“I remember all of my favorite customers’ orders,” Dean said, blush crawling further up his face and his ears. He cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s an unusual order, too, so it’s kinda hard to forget, you know? So specific. And you don’t look like the kind of guy to order it—not that there’s anything wrong with your order—so, I guess I…I remember it.” 

(Just like he remembered that Cas sometimes ordered two coffees—the second no milk, one sugar—though he had never managed to find out who the second coffee was for. Thank God he’d managed to stop his word-vomit before he did something stupid like _asking_ Cas who the second coffee was for. If that had happened, Dean would have probably died on the spot from embarrassment.)

Cas’ eyes crinkled, and Dean’s heart maybe skipped a beat. “It is an unusual order, isn’t it?” he mused.

“Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“My boss is on this weird diet that doesn’t allow any sugar, that’s why she asks for honey.”

Dean blinked. Over the cacophony of contrasting thoughts battling it out inside his skull, one thing stood out: “Honey is… honey has sugar in it,” he said weakly, and Cas laughed, head thrown back.

“I know. Her diet rules are ridiculous, but I won’t be the one to tell Naomi that.”

“So, Naomi’s your boss,” Dean said. “And this coffee is for her?”

“Indeed. So, please don’t spit in it. I know her demands are unreasonable but I really need to keep her happy. Her evaluation might earn me a promotion.”

“I would never spit in your coffee—I mean, I wouldn’t spit in anyone’s coffee! That’s just gross.” Oh God, here came the word-vomit again. _Focus, Winchester. At least do your fucking job if you can’t keep up with small-talk._ “Um, don’t _you_ want coffee?”

Pressing his lips together, Cas’ gaze dropped to the counter. “Not today, thank you.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Cool.”

“Not that your coffee isn’t good,” Cas added quickly. “I’m just… I’ve recently decided that I’m tired of renting an apartment and there’s that house I’ve found—it’s kind of old and needs a lot of work, but it’s perfect—and I am saving up to buy it. Even if I do get that promotion every penny counts, and since I’m already paying for Naomi’s coffee…”

“Your boss makes you pay for her coffee? Man, she sounds like a handful.”

“You have no idea. But I only need to hang in there for a little while longer.”

“Hey, I’m sure if anyone deserves that promotion, it’s you,” Dean said, placing the coffee on the counter for Cas to take. He swiped Cas’ credit card and passed him the receipt. “And I hope you buy that house. It sounds like you really love that place already.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. He caught Dean’s eye and dropped a couple of coins in the tip-jar before Dean could protest. “Have a good day, Dean.”

“Oh, uh—you, too, Cas!”

A finger touched Dean’s jaw and pushed it up, snapping his mouth shut. Dean hadn’t even realized he’d been standing there staring after Cas with his mouth literally hanging open, butCharlie clearly had. She leaned with her hip against the counter, shaking her head at Dean.

“You’re a disaster,” she said. “I’m surprised you haven’t scared him away yet.”

“You think I would scare him away?” Dean asked, panic clawing its way up his throat, but Charlie only rolled her eyes at him. 

She jutted her jaw out, nodding towards the door. “Customers are coming. Try and act like you have at least one working brain cell when you speak to them, please.”

## ❅

Okay, so finding the courage to flirt with Cas wasn’t easy. Charlie’s very pointed looks every time Cas stepped inside the bakery in all his suited glory probably didn’t help. The emergency alarms blaring inside Dean’s head every time Cas so much as breathed in his direction _definitely_ didn’t help. 

But then Cas showed up one day and not only ordered a coffee for himself along with his boss’ but also asked Dean to pack him a donut. It was too perfect an opportunity for Dean to pass on.

“A donut for breakfast?” he asked, grabbing the biggest donut he could find in the display with wax paper and transferring it to a small paper bag. “Are you celebrating something?”

Cas’ brows pulled together in an adorable frown. “Yes and no. Naomi told me yesterday she needs me to work through the holidays.”

“Wow, I’m sorry, man,” Dean said, internally cringing. ‘Man’? He had called Cas ‘man’? Next time maybe he could try ‘bro’, that would definitely get the message across that Dean was interested. _Hey, dude, wanna hang out? We could go out, man. Take me on a date, bro._ Yeah, it would have been funny, except there was a very real possibility Dean would utter something like that and make an ass of himself.

“Yeah, looks like I’m stuck here for Christmas,” Cas sighed. “But on the plus side, I’ll be saving a lot of money now that I won’t be flying to visit my folks. Hence the donut.”

“That sounds rough,” Dean offered, being very careful not to use any more stupid slang terms. “Will your folks come here instead?”

Cas shook his head. “I have too big a family and too small an apartment. It’s not just my parents. All four of my siblings and their significant others and children travel back home for the holidays every year. My parents’ house is barely big enough to fit us all, it’s impossible for me to host everyone here.”

 _Invite him to spend Christmas with you,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Charlie chanted in the back of his head, only for Dean to shoo it away because a) Cas would never accept an invitation from a guy he buys coffee from, and b) how was Dean supposed to explain Cas to Bobby and Sam? _Hey, guys, this is one of my customers and I invited him to have dinner with us?_ Yeah, right, both Sammy and Bobby would see right through that and make it their mission to tease Dean to the ends of the Earth. There was no way Dean would make Cas sit through that. 

“That sucks,” he said at last, possibly the dumbest answer he could have come up with. _What was wrong with him?_

Cas shrugged. “C'est la vie.” He gave his credit card to Dean, waited for his receipt, then gathered both coffees and the donut bag in his arms.

“Oh wait,” Dean tried to say. “I’ll give you a carrier for the coffees.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I’ve got this.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, my car is parked near here. I don’t need the carrier.”

“At least let me help you with the door,” Dean said, jogging to catch up with Cas and hold the door open for him. 

Cas turned his face to smile at Dean, their gazes meeting—Dean’s brain short-circuiting in a loop of _blueblueblueblue—_ and Cas slammed right into the door frame. He dropped everything he was holding, both coffee cups spilling their contents all over the front of his crisp, white—or not so white anymore—shirt. Flinching against the hot liquid, Cas took a step back only to crush the fallen donut under his shoe. 

“Shit!” Dean reached to help him, hands hovering awkwardly a few inches away from Cas’ body. Should he check his head? It'd looked like he hit his head with quite a lot of force. Maybe try and do something about the coffee instead? Deal with the chocolate leaking out of the crushed donut and onto the floor?

A hand against his forehead, Cas cursed.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. 

“I’m—yeah, I’m fine. More embarrassed than hurt I think. And, ah shit.” He held his arms away from his body, though Dean doubted that would help with the stain spreading over his chest—and making the wet shirt cling to firm, toned muscles, but shit, Dean could be an adult and not stare. 

Okay, maybe just a peek. He was only human, how was he supposed to resist?

“Well, this shirt is ruined,” Cas said, making Dean snap his eyes back up to his face. “I need to change, and, fuck, I have to get another coffee for Naomi. She’ll have my head if I don’t bring her coffee.”

“I’ll get your order ready again,” Dean offered. “You live near here, right? By the time you get back I’ll have both coffees and the donut ready for you to go. And I'll give you a carrier this time.”

“No, no, just Naomi’s coffee,” Cas said. “I don’t… I don’t think I should test my luck any more today.”

“But I—”

“Just the one coffee, Dean, thank you,” Cas said with a tight smile. Digging in his pocket for his wallet, he fished a few bills out and dropped them inside Dean’s palm. “Here, that should cover it.” And with that he was gone, not even giving Dean any time to protest.

Cas wasn’t the only one out of luck today, he thought, huffing. And he doubted Cas would accept the cash back now, or the extra coffee and donut. He turned around, ready to return to the front counter only to walk into Charlie. 

“Watch where you’re going,” she said, shoving him back playfully.

“Then stop sneaking up on me,” Dean said. 

Ignoring him, she peered past him at Cas’ retreating back, then down at the mess on the floor. “Is he okay?”

“He’s going to change and come back for another coffee.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Did you tell him the second coffee would be on the house?”

Instead of an answer, Dean held up the crumbled bills he was holding.

Charlie tsked. “I swear, Dean, sometimes you make me wonder if you’re incapable of scoring a date on your own. This was so simple!”

“I panicked,” Dean protested. 

“Yeah, and you lost your chance,” Charlie said. She glanced at something over Dean’s head. “You had Cas under the mistletoe and didn’t even do something about it. God, you’re hopeless.”

Dean looked up. The mistletoe really was hanging right above where he and Cas had been standing just moments ago. And he hadn’t even noticed! God, that had been the perfect opportunity to see if Cas was interested, and he blew it. 

_Nice job, Winchester!_

With a long-suffering sigh, Charlie pushed him towards the counter. "Take your brooding somewhere else, I have a floor to clean.”

## ❅

“One decaf cappuccino, skim milk, cinnamon on top, honey instead of sugar, and spit-free ready to go. Just like your boss likes it,” Dean said, holding the cup up in front of Cas. He was not going to let this opportunity go to waste. He had taken the time Cas needed to run back home, change, and run back to the bakery to come up with a plan, and it was bulletproof. This time he wouldn’t miss his opportunity. 

It all started with him waiting for Cas right at the bakery door and giving him Naomi’s coffee. 

“You’re a life-saver,” Cas said, his tie still hanging undone around his neck. “Seriously, you might have just saved my career.”

Dean tried not to blush and failed miserably. He dutifully kept his eyes away from the stripe of tan skin visible under Cas’ unbuttoned collar, though. “I doubt that. I’m sure your boss wouldn't fire you over one coffee.”

Cas huffed. “I’m not willing to put that theory to the test.” He reached for the coffee, only for Dean to hold it away from him. 

“First promise me you won’t run into any other doors.”

“What?”

“Promise me this coffee will make it to your boss’ desk and not all over your shirt,” Dean said. 

A smile tugged at the edges of Cas’ lips (one point for Dean) and he pressed closer, coming to stand firmly under the doorframe now along with Dean (another point for Dean). “I promise you, I don’t make a habit of running into doors. If anything it’s your fault I ran into _this_ door in the first place.”

“How is it my fault?” Dean asked, still holding the coffee out of Cas’ grabby hands and maybe enjoying their little teasing too much. He had Cas exactly where he wanted him now. “I even held it open for you.”

“You’re distracting! I mean, you distracted me,” Cas said quickly, but before Dean could question whether or not that slip of the tongue had meant something _more_ , Cas snatched the coffee out of his hands, taking advantage of his surprised stillness. (One point for Cas.)

Thankfully, like they’d rehearsed, Kevin appeared at that moment—abandoning the table he’d been pretending to be wiping for the last several minutes while they waited for Cas to come back—and stared at them emotionless.

“Wow,” he said, voice sounding dead inside. “You two have found yourselves under a mistletoe. What are the chances.” And he marched back to work, ignoring Dean’s _this is not what we talked about, you bastard, come back and put some life into your part_ glare. 

Dammit, he’d known he should have asked Charlie to be his wingwoman. Her embarrassing reenactment of this moment at every party to come would be worth it for better results than Kevin’s _I wasn’t even paid for this_ less than mediocre performance. 

There was no way Cas had—

“Oh,” Cas said, sounding breathless, and Dean snapped his attention back to him, spine straightening on instinct. “There really is a mistletoe.”

Dean swallowed audibly. “Oh, yeah. That thing? Yeah, it was Charlie’s idea. Haha. Ha.”

Cas’ gaze fell from the mistletoe above their heads to meet Dean’s eyes. “It’s… should we…”

The ringing of a phone slashed right through that sentence, making Cas wince. “Fuck, that’s probably Naomi,” he said, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. “I’m so late, I have to go. Thank you, Dean! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll…” Dean trailed off, alone under the mistletoe, a hand raised in a half-hearted wave. Cas was already running towards his car, far enough that even yelling after him to be careful not to slip on the snow was useless. His ‘get Cas under the mistletoe and see if he might be interested’ plan was ruined. And he couldn’t try it again, it would look suspicious. And creepy. And desperate. And Kevin probably wouldn’t agree to it again.

Shoulders shagging, Dean sighed. (Damn, Naomi swooped in for the steal—ten points to her, zero for Dean and Cas.) 

## ❅

“You don’t have to work on Christmas, you know. With the snow storm you’ll barely have any customers anyway.”

Dean had his phone stuck between his shoulder and ear, listening to everything Charlie was telling him but registering none of it. 

“You’re the boss,” Charlie added. “You’re supposed to be home today.”

“I’m here _because_ I’m the boss,” Dean argued, though his heart wasn’t in it. “I’m not going to ask Kevin to work on Christmas.”

“But you don’t have to either is what I’m saying.”

“It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

A pause, long enough that Dean wondered if maybe Charlie had hung up on him. Then: “Is this about Cas?”

“No,” Dean lied.

“Dean, just because _he’s_ working today doesn’t mean _you_ have to.”

“The dude might need coffee for his boss. Where else is he supposed to get it? In one of the big franchises? As if I’d let him.”

Charlie sighed. “This is getting out of control. He’s just a guy! Either make a move or move on.”

“I can’t just ask him out!”

“Sure you can. Next time he comes in just say ‘hey, I really like you, and I thought we could maybe grab a drink sometime’. It’s that easy.”

“I can’t say that.”

“Fine,” Charlie said, her eye-roll practically audible. “Then do it the old-fashioned way and write your phone number on his cup of coffee the next time he orders one. It’s cute, pressure-free and simple.”

Dean chewed on his lower lip for a moment, looking out the window. A thick, fluffy layer of snow had covered everything outside, growing higher and higher with every passing minute. Still, the road was relatively clean and cars drove by every now and then. “Somebody might stumble in asking for mini pies,” he said at last.

“Dean Winchester, don’t change the subject!” Charlie roared. “We were _not_ talking about the bakery, we were talking about your stupid crush on Cas.”

“We were actually talking about both of those things,” Dean pointed out.

“I was totally giving you advice on how to ask Cas out. And you’re going to take that advice and use it. Promise me you will.”

“You never know, someone might need last-minute cookies to take to their in-laws as a gift,” Dean said, ignoring Charlie’s words. “Or maybe somebody’s coffee maker might break down. I can’t leave the people hanging.”

“You’re totally avoiding—”

Whatever Charlie said next it was lost to Dean, for he caught sight of a familiar tan coat billowing in the wind. 

“Customer’s coming, gotta do,” Dean said and ended their call but not before Charlie could yell, “Is it Cas? Write your number on the—” _Click_.

Dean shoved his phone back in his pocket and quickly checked his hair in his reflection on the coffee maker. Not perfect but good enough.

“You’re open,” Cas said, making Dean spin around to face him. He was standing at the door, snow dusted on his hair and shoulders, face flushed from the cold. 

“We are,” Dean said, trying hard not to look like a deer caught in the headlights. It was just the two of them in the bakery. They were alone. With only a small chance of anyone else showing up. This was either the beginning of a sex dream or a nightmare. Well, as long as a serial killer didn’t jump out of a cabinet, Dean figured this couldn’t go very badly.

Cas was still standing at the door, eyes narrowed at Dean. “Why are you working on Christmas?”

“Someone might need coffee?” Dean tried. _Someone like you,_ he added internally, _who specifically told me would be working today._

“Where’s Charlie and Kevin?”

“Kevin is at home celebrating with his mom, and Charlie is visiting her girlfriend’s family for the holidays,” Dean said. He gestured at himself. “So I’m manning the fort today.”

“Don’t you want to celebrate with your family?” Cas asked, cocking his head at the side. 

“My brother’s and uncle’s flights were cancelled due to the storm,” Dean said, gesturing at the snowflakes swirling about outside. “So it’s just me today. I thought I might as well open the bakery since I'd be spending the day alone.”

“I won’t say it’s not convenient for me,” Cas said, finally stepping inside, letting the door close behind him and shutting the cold out. “I was prepared to drive around looking for somewhere to get Naomi’s coffee.

“Oh, so she’s making you get her coffee even today?” Dean asked. 

“You thought she’d make me work but not get her coffee?” 

Dean nodded his head from side to side as he considered that. “True. So, Naomi’s usual?”

“Yes, please. And one coffee for me, too. I’ll need it today.”

“One sugar, no milk, right?” Dean asked, even though he didn’t have to. 

“You remember.” Cas seemed impressed.

“Like I said, I always remember my favorite customers’ orders.” 

_Okay, you’ve got this, Winchester. You’re doing so well, you’re even speaking to him without forgetting your own name, which is a big step for you. Now, ask him out!_ Dean hyped himself up, though his palms were already sweaty, heart beating fast inside his chest. When he turned around to place Naomi’s coffee in front of Cas, though, and caught Cas staring at him, every thought fizzled out.

 _Retreat! Retreat!_ his mind screamed, and retreat he did. He turned around and started working on Cas’ coffee next. He wanted to say something funny or witty, but every time he tried flirting he got tongue-tied, and today was no exception. There was no way he could look Cas in the eye and ask him out. No way. 

_Do it the old-fashioned way,_ Charlie’s voice suggested inside his head. 

Dean stared at the paper cup he was holding. He had a pen in his pocket. He could write his number on it. But what if Cas saw it before he left the bakery? What if he laughed at Dean? Or worse, what if he was offended? What if he threw the coffee on Dean and marched out of the store never to return again?

No no no no no no. Dean couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t. He wasn’t going to write his number on that cup. It wasn’t simple, it wasn’t cute, and it certainly wasn’t pressure-free.

“And here’s your coffee,” Dean said, handing Cas the second cup, spotless and number-free.

“You’re a godsend, really,” Cas replied, removing the top to take a whiff and sighing. “How much?”

“Oh no, please,” Dean said, raising his arms against Cas’ trying to pass his credit card. “It’s on the house today.”

Cas held the card out again. “I insist.”

“It’s a Christmas gift. You don't pay for those,” Dean said and—light-bulb moment! “In fact, wait here.”

He glanced at Cas one last time to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere before retreating to the kitchen. His hands were shaking with the rush of adrenaline running through his fingertips, but he knew what to do now. Writing his number on Cas’ coffee was too intimidating, but there was another option. He'd seen Cas making heart eyes at their display with all the sweets, so he gathered half a dozen cinnamon rolls in a box, took his pen out and bit the cap off. 

_Here goes nothing._

Less than ten seconds later, he was putting the box in Cas’ hesitant arms. 

“Merry Christmas,” Dean said. “Cinnamon rolls. On the house.”

“Dean, I can’t,” Cas started, a hand moving to open the box, only for Dean to stop him at the last moment.

Cas couldn’t open the box. Not yet at least.

“Nonsense,” He said, his hand resting on top of Cas', stopping him from opening the box and at the same time feeling how warm Cas was. He dipped his head and caught Cas’ eye, holding his gaze. “Just because you’re working today doesn’t mean you can't celebrate.”

Cas’ expression softened, mouth tilting up at the corners in a shy smile. “Thank you, Dean. I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Dean ran a hand through his hair, fingers trailing lower to rub the back of his neck. “Just let me know if you liked them, okay?”

“I will,” Cas replied with a small nod and a toothy grin. “Will you be open tomorrow as well?”

“I have nothing else planned, so.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Dean, breath caught at his throat, watched Cas as he walked away. He’d probably never see Cas’ reaction when he opened that box, but he caught the quick glance over his shoulder Cas gave him before he walked back outside to brave the storm on the way to his car. It made something warm and fragile swell under Dean’s ribcage. Not hope exactly, but close enough to pull him along until he was standing with his nose almost pressed to the window. The snow was still falling outside, thick enough that most of the street was lost to the hazy whiteness. Cas was already nowhere to be seen.

Breath fogging up the glass, he stood there for a second. His forehead hit the window, cool against his flushed face. Even if Cas was interested (a pretty big if), he’d probably not let Dean know right away, right? Dean wouldn’t in his shoes. Maybe Cas would stop by the bakery again on his way back home. Or the next day when he’d need to buy coffee for his boss again.

Those were the best case scenarios.

The bad ones Dean didn’t even want to think about. Like Cas crossing the street every time he passed by the bakery to avoid Dean.

At least Charlie would stop bothering him about making a move. This definitely counted as a— 

There was a _tap tap tap_ against the window, the insistent knocking on the glass making Dean jerk back in surprise. He stared at Cas, his palm pressed against the frosty glass, staring at Dean with wide eyes. 

_When had he come back?_

Cas was now walking towards the bakery door, and Dean rushed to catch up to him, throwing the door open just as the other man came to stand before him. 

Hair wild like he’d been running his fingers through it, Cas held up the open box Dean had given him, showing him Dean’s number written on the inside of the lid. 

“Do you—did you give me your number?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, voice hoarse. His stomach did a nervous flip.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I, I guess? Only if you want to, of course. I don’t want to come off as creepy or—”

“Yes,” Cas cut him off, stepping right into Dean’s personal space, close enough that the box bumped against Dean’s chest. “Yes, I want, I want to go out with you.”

“Oh,” Dean said. He blinked. “Like. On a date?”

“Yes. On a date.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. Every muscle in his body was tingling, blood fizzing, brain flat-lining. Cas wanted to go out with him. 

Cas wanted to go out with him!

“We can,” Dean said, mind racing and yet coming to a screeching halt at every single word that came out of his mouth. “I can cook us dinner at my place. I had this whole thing planned and all the ingredients bought. It’d be a shame to let them go to waste now my family isn't coming anymore.”

“Tonight?” Cas asked, eyes becoming impossibly wider. 

“If you’re free.” Dean winced. “And only if you think it’s not too… you know.”

“No, it’s not,” Cas said quickly. “Tonight. I’ll be there. I’ll call you after I’m done from work, and you can send me your address. I’ll bring the wine. Do you like wine?”

“I’m more of a beer guy, if I’m being honest.”

“Beer then,” Cas rectified without any hesitation. 

“Okay,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Cas agreed.

They stared at each other. A beat.

Then: “Dean?”

“Mm?”

“We’re standing right under the mistletoe.”

Dean glanced up. “Oh.” Yes, they were. 

“I’d like to kiss you now.”

Dean gaped at Cas. Somehow, and despite all the 404 error messages his brain was throwing at him, Dean managed to say, “Okay.”

There was the clatter of the box hitting the ground, Dean’s surprised inhale of breath, and then there were hands framing his face. Cas was impossibly close, staring right at Dean for a fraction of a second. And then—Oh. 

_Oh._

Dean had been wrong. _This_ was his brain flat-lining. 

Cas’ lips were warm and careful, their kiss more chaste and sweet than anything else, but it was everything Dean had ever dreamed of and even more. Cas was warm and solid, hands still framing Dean’s face, every tiny movement sending electricity through Dean’s spine. When Cas pulled back it was only to rest their foreheads together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now,” Cas said, confessed.

Words were not something Dean could produce at that point—his default when it came to Cas—so he settled for, “Yeah. Same.” 

“I have to go now,” Cas said.

“You have work.”

“Naomi’s waiting for me.”

“And her coffee,” Dean agreed.

Cas’ fingers on Dean’s face tightened. “But I’ll see you tonight?”

“Definitely. I’ll have a whole Christmas menu ready for you. I’ll even have pie for dessert.”

At that, Cas took a sharp breath. He released Dean and stepped back, eyes glued to the floor, where the cinnamon rolls were lying miserable and ruined. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Cas said, falling to his knees, trying to gather what was left of them.

There was frosting smeared on the floor, but Dean couldn’t find it in him to care. He crouched by Cas’ side, more out of habit than anything else. With a gentle touch on Cas’ wrist, he stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Seriously, I’ll get you more of them.”

“It’s not about the cinnamon rolls! I mean, it _is_ about the cinnamon rolls, but not because I want more. You gave them to me as a gift, and I—”

“Honestly, Cas, if I get to kiss you more tonight, I don’t care if I ruin every single cinnamon roll inside this bakery.”

“You… okay.” A gorgeous blush spread over Cas’ face, and he ducked his head, biting his lower lip. “You know you don’t have to wait for tonight, though, right?”

Dean didn’t hesitate. He pulled Cas right back in, both sitting on their heels, crushed cinnamon rolls all around them, and they kissed, again and again, snow falling outside, until Dean’s lips were tingling.

“I really have to go,” Cas breathed against Dean’s mouth somewhere between a heartbeat and an eternity later. 

Dean reluctantly let him pull him back up to his feet, but he didn’t let go of his hand. “Call me when you’re done.”

“I will,” Cas promised again. And with one last squeeze of Dean’s fingers he walked away.

Dean collapsed against the nearest table, stupid grin splitting his face in two. Holy shit. Castiel had agreed to go out with him. Castiel had kissed him. Castiel would be spending Christmas with him. He pinched himself—this wasn’t a dream.

His eyes fell to the mistletoe hanging over the door. Maybe he should put one up in his apartment as well. It definitely couldn't hurt!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
